


Smoke

by Jackersize



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Break Up, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28964016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackersize/pseuds/Jackersize
Summary: After his two year relationship comes to an end, Zoro gets wasted and somehow ends up with a package of cigarettes.  It turns out they are the exact same brand his ex-boyfriend used to smoke.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 3
Kudos: 96





	Smoke

“ID please,” An older cashier said as he eyed the dishevelled green haired man who stumbled up to the till.

Zoro sighed and set down the bottle of whiskey on the counter clumsily. He was still pretty buzzed from last night but figured he might as well get another bottle since he ran out of booze. He couldn’t even remember how many bottles he went through. 

It was now nine in the morning and he didn’t work today anyway. In all honestly, he didn’t really work at all this past week. When he stumbled into the dojo to instruct his classes, Mihawk took one look at him and told him to get it together before setting foot back in his dojo again. As for his other job, he called in and told Smoker he wouldn’t be able to help out for awhile. Tracking down fugitives could wait.

It was a rough week. He decided as soon as he woke up from his poor and restless sleep, that he didn’t give a fuck. He wanted to continue drinking and just forget everything. He lazily stuffed his hands into his denim pockets and pulled out his wallet. Tugging out his ID, he handed it over to the man to prove he was of legal age.

“Anything else for ya?” The cashier said, as his eyes skimmed over the birth date on Zoro’s ID.

“Um. A pack of smokes, I guess,” Zoro slurred, surprising himself at his own comment. He raised his eyebrows at that. Its not like the cook was around anyway so what was the point? Maybe it was just a habit. Old habits die hard they say. Over the past few months, Zoro would pick up cigarettes for the cook if he ever ran out. Sometimes he bought them for him just for the hell of it.

Sanji would come home after his shift at the restaurant, exhausted from a long day, and would head straight to the bath after setting a container of left-over food for Zoro on the island in the kitchen. Zoro in turn, had left the cook a new pack of smokes, sitting by the bowl on the island that they stored their keys in. However, those days were now gone.  
“Alright, what kind?” the cashier asked, bringing Zoro back to the present, as he handed the ID back to him.

“Um… hang on,” Zoro said, trying to tuck his ID back into his wallet. He was having some issues with his hand and eye coordination due to the amount of alcohol in his system. He had been drinking off and on during the beginning of the week and now was the third day of straight drinking since he called off work. He struggled raising his head and he put the wallet back in the pocket of his jeans. He glanced over to the selection of cigarettes displayed on a shelf behind the cashier before the recognising the familiar packaging of Sanji’s brand. “King size pack of Death, I guess.”

After paying for the booze, cigarettes and buying a lighter, Zoro left the convenience store and headed back to his apartment. He made it back home in good time. Not just because he was drunk, but because he didn’t get lost either. The cook would have been in shock if he found that out. 

Fumbling with his keys as he attempted to open his apartment door, he nearly dropped his bag from the convenience store. “Fuck,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself. After a few attempts, he managed to open the door. Stumbling into the entrance, Zoro kicked off his shoes and slammed the door behind him rather loudly. His ears rang in pain. Whatever. He’d just drink the pain away. He strode into the kitchen and placed the bag on the island haphazardly. He dug his wallet out of his pocket and threw it in the bowl with his keys. The wallet opened and a small picture of him and Sanji on vacation glared back at him. He forgot to dispose of the photo. He didn’t know why he kept it in his wallet after what happened. 

He snatched the bottle of whiskey out of the bag and opened it messily. Some of the whiskey leaked out of the top as he twisted the bottle cap off. He didn’t care. He lifted the bottle to his mouth and took a few long gulps of the bitter liquid. He coughed a bit at the strong taste but soon he’d be feeling better. It would be worth it.

Warmth spread throughout his chest as he shook his head at the taste still lingering in his mouth and set the bottle back down on the island. He rummaged through the bag and pulled the cigarettes and lighter out. He ripped the package open, took out a cigarette and stuck in between his lips. He pocketed the lighter, gripped the whiskey bottle in his left hand and then stumbled out of the kitchen into the living room. 

He didn’t even want to look at the living room. Too many memories of the cook here. When their relationship ended last week and Sanji was moving out, they took down all the photos of them together. The walls were so bare now. In addition, Sanji’s two bookshelves with his collection of cookbooks were now gone. It looked so empty. Just made Zoro remember how alone he was. It was making him sick.

Zoro lost his footing as caught his balance and he gripped the sofa. He and the cook shared their first time together on that leather sofa bed. It was fast, frantic and one of the best nights Zoro experienced in his life. But that was now a memory. It wouldn’t happen again. 

Zoro kicked at the sofa and stumbled out to the balcony. He caught himself again. Of course, he had to kick it like the cook’s preferred style of combat. How many times they sparred in the large space of the living room, too. Sometimes it was due to pure agitation of the other, other times it was for fun and to blow off stem. Trading blows and then ending the session, sweaty and yearning for one another. Zoro shook his head, trying to rid himself of those thoughts.

Zoro pushed the screen door open and fell into one of the patio chairs on the balcony and placed the whiskey bottle on the small patio table beside him. He pulled out the lighter and tried to light the cigarette hanging from his lips. 

He flicked the lighter a few times. The flame wouldn’t catch and it reminded him of Sanji. When the cook was upset or frustrated, he had a hard time lighting his cigarette. 

After meeting his biological family for the first time in years which was a stressful event for him, Sanji stood silently trying to light his cigarette outside of the hotel where they had met, tears streaming down his face. Zoro had been driving to the hotel to pick Sanji up. He pulled up to the curb and got out of the car and noticed the state Sanji was in. Zoro put the car into park and walked up to him. He remembered Sanji’s shocked face as he took the lighter from Sanji’s quivering hands and lit the cigarette for him. He then kissed the cook’s forehead and whispered, “forget about them. Let’s go home, cook.” Sanji looked up with his bright blue eyes glistening and a small smile made its way onto his face.  
“Okay, mosshead.”

“Fuck,” Zoro said, dropping his head and giving up on lighting the cigarette. A two-year relationship just down the drain. He placed the cigarette and lighter on the patio table and grabbed the whiskey, ripping the cap off and taking a few chugs. It burned and hurt. He eyed the empty chair across from him. He could picture Sanji sitting across from him. Zoro would have his coffee out here on the patio while Sanji had his morning cigarette first thing in the morning.

A droplet of water fell onto Zoro’s hand that was still gripping the whiskey bottle. Was it raining? Zoro glanced at the sky. Blue and clear. His vision became blurry. He was the one crying not the sky. He slammed the bottle down on the table and wiped at his irritated eye. He rarely cried, but this week, it seemed like he couldn't control it. He was tempted to go get his phone that was left in his bedroom for the past three days and call the cook and give him shit for turning his life into this mess. He didn’t bother checking his phone nor cared who was trying to contact him after the first few days after the breakup. There was only one person who he wanted to hear from, and he knew that wasn’t gonna happen. 

He sniffled, wiped at his eyes again and grabbed the cigarette and finally lit it. He inhaled shakily and imagined he was sitting here with Sanji. The thick smoke burned his throat and he exhaled quickly so he wouldn’t start choking. The smoke floated around him as it was embracing him and it smelled just like the cook. He was here with him. Zoro took a few more drags off the cigarette and was gonna put it out on the table when he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye.

He was probably hallucinating at this point. He felt like his brain was broken along with his heart. A flash of blond hair, slim torso wrapped in a crisp blue dress shirt with a navy-blue tie, slim fitting black dress pants, making his long legs appear even longer: the blond was exiting a car that stopped in the parking lot in front of the apartment. It was Sanji.  
Zoro gasped. The balcony was on the second level so Sanji would be able to clearly see him sitting here drinking and smoking. Blue eyes met his single grey eye. He felt like he was going to die.

“Mosshead,” Sanji said walking closer to the balcony. He looked up at Zoro, a solemn expression on his beautiful face.

“What do you want?” Zoro choked out. He could barely work his own voice. He couldn’t even imagine why Sanji was there in the first place. Maybe he forgot something. That is the only thing Zoro could think of. 

“Taking up smoking I see?” the cook said, gesturing to Zoro’s hand. The lit cigarette still hanging between his fingers. “Drinking whiskey at nine-thirty in the morning as well.”

Zoro looked at the cigarette in his hand and quickly put out on the patio table. He didn’t bother to try to hide the whiskey bottle. He couldn’t hide that he was drunk. He knew he looked awful due to lack of sleep, lack of showering and everything else. “What do you care?” he said harshly. His head was fuzzy and eyes were starting to hurt. Maybe he was delirious. Maybe this wasn’t even real.

“I care,” said the cook softly. He looked up at Zoro, through the glass panel that surrounded the balcony. “I care about you, Zoro,” he said sincerely, his blue eyes passing over Zoro’s body.

Zoro gulped at that and ran a hand through his hair, in confusion. His head was pounding, and he felt faint. This couldn’t be real. Just a fucked up dream. Zoro snapped his eyes shut and dropped his head to his chest, taking in a deep breath and hoping to wake up.

It was quiet for a couple minutes. Zoro figured when he opened his eyes, Sanji would be gone. Maybe he just wouldn’t open them.

“I’m not going to marry her,” Sanji stated. This quickly caught Zoro’s attention. Zoro lifted his head, opened his eyes quickly and met Sanji’s gaze. Sanji appeared to be serious. Zoro blinked in confusion.

“What? Why?” Zoro mumbled. His heart was beating faster. What could this possibly mean?

“I don’t care what my family says anymore. I can’t do it,” Sanji paused, looking at the ground. He paused and he trembled. His shoulders starting to shake. He raised his hand to his face, wiping at his now tear-filled eyes. “I can’t! I just can’t!” He shouted, eyes glistening as he met Zoro’s gaze. “I called it off. I don’t care. I won’t marry her… I- I don’t want her,” Sanji sobbed. He looked straight into Zoro’s eye, as is he was looking into his very soul and cried: “All I know is I want you!”

The cook had tears streaming down his face. He appeared to be in as much pain as Zoro was in these past few days. It wasn’t one sided at all, Zoro realised. This was real after all. His heart clenched in his chest. He wasn’t going to lose Sanji. He would never let Sanji go again.

“I’m sorry, Zoro,” Sanji whispered, his voice breaking.

Zoro wished he could sober up quickly now. He wished he hadn’t drunk so much. He just wanted to take the cook into his arms and love him. Show him that he still cared. He would always care and love him. Zoro cleared his dry throat and Sanji stared at him, sniffling and expecting an answer.

“Well, get up here, Cook,” said Zoro, as he stood up unsteadily, leaning on the glass ledge.

“But…. But you’re drunk… Are you sure? Maybe we should wait until you sober up and then we can talk about this,” Sanji said, trying to be rational. He probably thought that Zoro wouldn’t want him if he was sober which was stupid. Zoro always wanted him.

“Sober up….Then you can decide what you want with me,” Sanji said sadly, expecting to be rejected.

“I already know what I want. I’ll buzz you in. Get in here,” Zoro said, locking eyes with Sanji. He meant it and would always mean it. Before Zoro could even finished talking, Sanji was out of Zoro’s sight and running to the door of the apartment building. 

The buzzer went off in the apartment as Zoro quickly ran to the panel in the living room to buzz him in. Shit, he probably just reeked of booze. Zoro gave himself a once over quickly in the mirror on the wall and truth be hold, he did have better days. He looked haggard and still drunk. His eye was blood shot due to crying, he had some stubble coming in on his chin and his t-shirt had some stains on it. He didn’t shower at all during his bender, so his hair was greasy and sticking up in various directions and dark circles were underneath his eyes due to lack of sleep. 

There was a quick knock at the door.

Zoro made his way to the door and swung it open. There stood the cook. He had seemed to have calmed down and stopped crying but he still wore a pained expression on his beautiful face.

“Come here,” Zoro murmured, opening his arms. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, seeing the blond in so much pain.

Sanji all but ran into his arms. The tears starting to fall once again. Zoro could feel his t-shirt getting damp where Sanji’s face was resting on his shoulder. Small sobs still coming from the shaking blond.

Zoro ran a hand through Sanji’s smooth hair and tilted his face up. Their eyes met. “I know I never said it enough while we were together, “ Zoro paused as more tears fell from Sanji’s eyes. “But I do love you.”

Sanji sobbed and hugged Zoro tighter, not wanting to let go. Zoro didn’t know how long they stood there in the entrance of the apartment just embracing. It didn’t matter. He was glad to have the cook back in his life. This past week was hell for him, and he couldn’t imagine how hard the cook had it due to having to be around his family and break off the engagement.

Sanji lifted his head from Zoro’s shoulder and placed a soft kiss on his chapped lips. Their tongues met slowly and reintroduced themselves to one another. The kiss was getting more and more heated and needy. Zoro was tugging at Sanji’s blond hair as his tongue explored the other’s mouth as if reclaiming its home. Their breaths became unsteady as they continued their exploration of each other. They both wanted more. Sanji gasped as Zoro bit down on his plump bottom lip and then licked it in apology. Sanji pulled back, gasping and panting. He needed to stop and wait until Zoro sobered up at least. Then they could spend all the time in the world getting reacquainted with each other.

They stood in each other’s arms, just embracing and being. Just needing to be close to one another.

After a while Sanji commented, “You taste like an ash tray,” as he rubbed his thumb over Zoro’s swollen lips.

“Heh… yeah,” Zoro said, embarrassed, trying to avoid eye contact.

“You smell, too, mosshead,” Sanji commented, with a smirk.

“Thanks a lot, curly, ” Zoro muttered, pulling away.

“You smell like smoke, I mean. And well, liquor too, obviously,” Sanji said, reaching out to Zoro again, and running his heads down his arms and taking his hands into his own.

“It’s dumb,” Zoro muttered, remembering how lonely and hurt he felt as he smoked the cigarette while thinking of Sanji.

“Tell me, anyway,” Sanji whispered. “I can see why you were drinking but the smoking part loses me.”

Zoro took in a deep breath. Seriously debating telling him at all.

Sanji squeezed his hand in reassurance and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Okay,” Zoro started. “I- I missed you. The smoke smells like you. Felt like you here again,” said Zoro looking at the ground. He didn’t know if he wanted to know Sanji’s reaction. His head started to throb again from thinking about it and from the booze. Out of nowhere, Zoro’s stomach growled, and Zoro backed away, embarrassed. He hadn’t really eaten anything since they broke up.

Sanji raised his eyebrows at that and smiled. It was the smile he had worn happily on his face when achieved his dream of opening his very own restaurant– All Blue. Zoro was a bit dazed. He could never get over that smile. 

Sanji let go of Zoro’s hands and embraced him again and pulled away. “Let’s get you washed up, get some food in your stomach and into bed. You look like shit,” he smirked as Zoro glared at him.

“At least my eyebrows don’t look like a dartboard,” Zoro grumbled, as Sanji pulled a cigarette out of the package in his breast pocket.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanji said laughed softly and lead Zoro to the bathroom, as smoke drifted into the air.

**Author's Note:**

> Was looking at fan art of zoro smoking and talking to someone about zoro smoking and then this happened 
> 
> Edit: Here is the fan art of zoro smoking that inspired the fic:   
> https://twitter.com/a__f__r77/status/1353257880141455360?s=20


End file.
